Marshall McLuhan Predicts That Electronic Media Will Displace the Book & Create Sweeping Changes in Our Everyday Lives (1960)

“The elec­tron­ic media haven’t wiped out the book: it’s read, used, and want­ed, per­haps more than ever. But the role of the book has changed. It’s no longer alone. It no longer has sole charge of our out­look, nor of our sen­si­bil­i­ties.” As famil­iar as those words may sound, they don’t come from one of the think pieces on the chang­ing media land­scape now pub­lished each and every day. They come from the mouth of mid­cen­tu­ry CBC tele­vi­sion host John O’Leary, intro­duc­ing an inter­view with Mar­shall McLuhan more than half a cen­tu­ry ago.

McLuhan, one of the most idio­syn­crat­ic and wide-rang­ing thinkers of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry, would go on to become world famous (to the point of mak­ing a cameo in Woody Allen’s Annie Hall) as a prophet­ic media the­o­rist. He saw clear­er than many how the intro­duc­tion of mass media like radio and tele­vi­sion had changed us, and spoke with more con­fi­dence than most about how the media to come would change us. He under­stood what he under­stood about these process­es in no small part because he’d learned their his­to­ry, going all the way back to the devel­op­ment of writ­ing itself.

Writ­ing, in McLuhan’s telling, changed the way we thought, which changed the way we orga­nized our soci­eties, which changed the way we per­ceived things, which changed the way we inter­act. All of that holds truer for the print­ing press, and even truer still for tele­vi­sion. He told the sto­ry in his book The Guten­berg Galaxy, which he was work­ing on at the time of this inter­view in May of 1960, and which would intro­duce the term “glob­al vil­lage” to its read­ers, and which would crys­tal­lize much of what he talked about in this broad­cast. Elec­tron­ic media, in his view, “have made our world into a sin­gle unit.”

With this “con­tin­u­al­ly sound­ing trib­al drum” in place, “every­body gets the mes­sage all the time: a princess gets mar­ried in Eng­land, and ‘boom, boom, boom’ go the drums. We all hear about it. An earth­quake in North Africa, a Hol­ly­wood star gets drunk, away go the drums again.” The con­se­quence? “We’re re-trib­al­iz­ing. Invol­un­tar­i­ly, we’re get­ting rid of indi­vid­u­al­ism.” Where “just as books and their pri­vate point of view are being replaced by the new media, so the con­cepts which under­lie our actions, our social lives, are chang­ing.” No longer con­cerned with “find­ing our own indi­vid­ual way,” we instead obsess over “what the group knows, feel­ing as it does, act­ing ‘with it,’ not apart from it.”

Though McLuhan died in 1980, long before the appear­ance of the mod­ern inter­net, many of his read­ers have seen recent tech­no­log­i­cal devel­op­ments val­i­date his notion of the glob­al vil­lage — and his view of its per­ils as well as its ben­e­fits — more and more with time. At this point in his­to­ry, mankind can seem less unit­ed than ever than ever, pos­si­bly because tech­nol­o­gy now allows us to join any num­ber of glob­al “tribes.” But don’t we feel more pres­sure than ever to know just what those tribes know and feel just what they feel?

No won­der so many of those pieces that cross our news feeds today still ref­er­ence McLuhan and his pre­dic­tions. Just this past week­end, Quartz’s Lila MacLel­lan did so in argu­ing that our media, “while glob­al in reach, has come to be essen­tial­ly con­trolled by busi­ness­es that use data and cog­ni­tive sci­ence to keep us spell­bound and loy­al based on our own tastes, fuel­ing the relent­less rise of hyper-per­son­al­iza­tion” as “deep-learn­ing pow­ered ser­vices promise to become even bet­ter cus­tom-con­tent tai­lors, lim­it­ing what indi­vid­u­als and groups are exposed to even as the uni­verse of prod­ucts and sources of infor­ma­tion expands.” Long live the indi­vid­ual, the indi­vid­ual is dead: step back, and it all looks like one of those con­tra­dic­tions McLuhan could have deliv­ered as a res­o­nant sound bite indeed.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mar­shall McLuhan in Two Min­utes: A Brief Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to the 1960s Media The­o­rist Who Pre­dict­ed Our Present

Has Tech­nol­o­gy Changed Us?: BBC Ani­ma­tions Answer the Ques­tion with the Help of Mar­shall McLuhan

McLuhan Said “The Medi­um Is The Mes­sage”; Two Pieces Of Media Decode the Famous Phrase

The Vision­ary Thought of Mar­shall McLuhan, Intro­duced and Demys­ti­fied by Tom Wolfe

Mar­shall McLuhan, W.H. Auden & Buck­min­ster Fuller Debate the Virtues of Mod­ern Tech­nol­o­gy & Media (1971)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Watch Randy Newman’s Tour of Los Angeles’ Sunset Boulevard, and You’ll Love L.A. Too

“The longer I live here,” a Los Ange­les-based friend recent­ly said, “the more ‘I Love L.A.’ sounds like an uniron­ic trib­ute to this city.” That hit sin­gle by Randy New­man, a singer-song­writer not known for his sim­ple earnest­ness, has pro­duced a mul­ti­plic­i­ty of inter­pre­ta­tions since it came out in 1983, the year before Los Ange­les pre­sent­ed a sun­ny, col­or­ful, for­ward-look­ing image to the world as the host of the Sum­mer Olympic Games. Lis­ten­ers still won­der now what they won­dered back then: when New­man sings the prais­es — lit­er­al­ly — of the likes of Impe­r­i­al High­way, a “big nasty red­head,” Cen­tu­ry Boule­vard, the San­ta Ana winds, and bums on their knees, does he mean it?

“I Love L.A.“ ‘s both smirk­ing and enthu­si­as­tic music video offers a view of New­man’s 1980s Los Ange­les, but fif­teen years lat­er, he starred in an episode of the pub­lic tele­vi­sion series Great Streets that presents a slight­ly more up-to-date, and much more nuanced, pic­ture of the city. In it, the native Ange­leno looks at his birth­place through the lens of the 27-mile Sun­set Boule­vard, Los Ange­les’ most famous street — or, in his own words, “one of those places the movies would’ve had to invent, if it did­n’t already exist.”

His­to­ri­an Leonard Pitt (who appears along­side fig­ures like film­mak­er Alli­son Anders, artist Ed Ruscha, and Doors key­boardist Ray Man­zarek) describes Sun­set as the one place along which you can see “every stra­tum of Los Ange­les in the short­est peri­od of time.” Or as New­man puts it, “Like a lot of the peo­ple who live here, Sun­set is hum­ble and hard-work­ing at the begin­ning,” on its inland end. “Go fur­ther and it gets a lit­tle self-indul­gent and out­ra­geous” before it “straight­ens itself out and grows rich, fat, and respectable.” At its coastal end “it gets real twist­ed, so there’s noth­ing left to do but jump into the Pacif­ic Ocean.”

New­man’s west­ward jour­ney, made in an open-topped con­vert­ible (albeit not “I Love L.A.“ ‘s 1955 Buick) takes him from Union Sta­tion (Amer­i­ca’s last great rail­way ter­mi­nal and the ori­gin point of “L.A.‘s long, long-antic­i­pat­ed sub­way sys­tem”) to Aimee Sem­ple McPher­son­’s Angelus Tem­ple, now-gen­tri­fied neigh­bor­hoods like Sil­ver Lake then only in mid-gen­tri­fi­ca­tion, the hum­ble stu­dio where he laid tracks for some of his biggest records, the cor­ner where D.W. Grif­fith built Intol­er­ance’s ancient Baby­lon set, the sto­ried celebri­ty hide­out of the Chateau Mar­mont, UCLA (“almost my alma mater”), the Lake Shrine Tem­ple of the Self-Real­iza­tion Fel­low­ship, and final­ly to edge of the con­ti­nent.

More recent­ly, Los Ange­les Times archi­tec­ture crit­ic Christo­pher Hawthorne trav­eled the entire­ty of Sun­set Boule­vard again, but on foot and in the oppo­site direc­tion. The east-to-west route, he writes, “offers a way to explore an intrigu­ing notion: that the key to deci­pher­ing con­tem­po­rary Los Ange­les is to focus not on growth and expan­sion, those build­ing blocks of 20th cen­tu­ry South­ern Cal­i­for­nia, but instead on all the ways in which the city is dou­bling back on itself and get­ting denser.” For so much of the city’s his­to­ry, “search­ing for a metaphor to define Sun­set Boule­vard, writ­ers” — or musi­cians or film­mak­ers or any num­ber of oth­er cre­ators besides — “have described it as a riv­er run­ning west and feed­ing into the Pacif­ic. But the riv­er flows the oth­er direc­tion now.”

Los Ange­les has indeed plunged into a thor­ough trans­for­ma­tion since New­man first simul­ta­ne­ous­ly cel­e­brat­ed and sat­i­rized it, but some­thing of the dis­tinc­tive­ly breezy spir­it into which he tapped will always remain. “There‘s some kind of igno­rance L.A. has that I’m proud of. The open car and the red­head and the Beach Boys, the night just cool­ing off after a hot day, you got your arm around some­body,” he said to the Los Ange­les Week­ly a few years after tap­ing his Great Streets tour. ”That sounds real­ly good to me. I can‘t think of any­thing a hell of a lot bet­ter than that.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Glenn Gould Gives Us a Tour of Toron­to, His Beloved Home­town (1979)

Charles Bukows­ki Takes You on a Very Strange Tour of Hol­ly­wood

Join Clive James on His Clas­sic Tele­vi­sion Trips to Paris, LA, Tokyo, Rio, Cairo & Beyond

The City in Cin­e­ma Mini-Doc­u­men­taries Reveal the Los Ange­les of Blade Run­ner, Her, Dri­ve, Repo Man, and More

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Joni Mitchell Sings an Achingly Pretty Version of “Both Sides Now” on the Mama Cass TV Show (1969)

“Records can be a bad trip. The audi­ence can play your mis­takes over and over. In a tele­vi­sion spe­cial they see you once and you work hard to make sure they’re see­ing you at your best.” 

Mama Cass Elliot, The Argus

It’s hard to imag­ine any­one blessed with Mama Cass’ gold­en pipes being embar­rassed by a record­ed per­for­mance. A live gig, yes, though, celebri­ties of her era were sub­ject­ed to far few­er wit­ness­es.

The Inter­net was an undream­able lit­tle dream in 1969, when the sole episode of The Mama Cass Tele­vi­sion Show aired. The for­mer singer of the Mamas and the Papas died five years lat­er, pre­sum­ably unaware that future gen­er­a­tions would have knowl­edge of, let alone access to, her failed pilot.

She may have described her vari­ety show as “low key” to the Fre­mont, Cal­i­for­nia Argus, but the guest list was padded with high wattage friends, includ­ing come­di­an Bud­dy Hack­ett, and singers Mary Tra­vers and John Sebas­t­ian. Joni Mitchell, above, deliv­ered an above-reproach per­for­mance of “Both Sides Now.”

Lat­er, Mitchell and Tra­vers joined their host­ess for the heart­felt ren­di­tion of “I Shall Be Released” below, a per­for­mance that is only slight­ly marred by Elliot’s insane cos­tume and an unnec­es­sar­i­ly syrupy back­ing arrange­ment of strings and reeds.

Those who can’t live with­out see­ing the com­plete show can pur­chase DVDs online.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Vin­tage Video of Joni Mitchell Per­form­ing in 1965 — Before She Was Even Named Joni Mitchell

James Tay­lor and Joni Mitchell, Live and Togeth­er (1970)

Watch 1970s Ani­ma­tions of Songs by Joni Mitchell, Jim Croce & The Kinks, Aired on The Son­ny & Cher Show

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  She’ll is appear­ing onstage in New York City through June 26 in Paul David Young’s polit­i­cal satire, Faust 3. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Meet Alexander Graham Bell, Inventor of the Telephone and Popular TV Pitchman

Mr. Wat­son, come here! I want you to tell me why I keep show­ing up in tele­vi­sion com­mer­cials. Is it because they think I invent­ed the tele­vi­sion?

- The ghost of Alexan­der Gra­ham Bell

Not at all, my dear Mr. Bell. A sec­ond’s worth of research reveals that a 21-year-old upstart named Phi­lo Tay­lor Farnsworth invent­ed tele­vi­sion. By 1927, when he unveiled it to the pub­lic, you’d already been dead for five years.

You invent­ed the telephone, a fact of which we’re all very aware.

Though you might want to look into intel­lec­tu­al prop­er­ty law.… His­toric fig­ures make pop­u­lar pitch­men, espe­cial­ly if — like Lin­coln, Coper­ni­cus, and a red hot Alexan­der Hamil­ton, they’ve been in the grave for over 100 years. (Hint — you’ve got five years to go.)

Or you could take it as a com­pli­ment! You’ve made an impres­sion so last­ing, the briefest of estab­lish­ing shots is all we tele­vi­sion audi­ences need to under­stand the adver­tis­er’s premise.

Thus­ly can you be co-opt­ed into sell­ing the Amer­i­can pub­lic on the appar­ent­ly rev­o­lu­tion­ary con­cept of chick­en for break­fast, above.

And that’s just the tip of the ice­berg!

Mr. Wat­son gets a cameo in your 1975 ad for Care­free Gum. You def­i­nite­ly come off the bet­ter of the two.

You’re an obvi­ous choice for a recent AT&T spot trac­ing a line from your rev­e­la­to­ry moment to 20-some­thing  hip­sters wield­ing smart­phones and sparklers on a Brook­lyn rooftop. Their devices aren’t the only thing con­nect­ing you. It’s also the beards…

Apolo­gies for the beard­less­ness of this 10 year old, low-bud­get spot for Able Com­put­ing in Papua New Guinea. Pos­si­bly the cos­tumer thought Ein­stein invent­ed the phone? Or maybe the cre­ative direc­tor was count­ing on the local view­ing audi­ence not to sweat the small stuff. Your inven­tion mat­ters more than your facial hair.

Lego took a cue from the 80s Mup­pet Babies craze by send­ing you back to child­hood. They also sad­dled you and your mom  with Amer­i­can accents, a regret­tably com­mon prac­tice. I bet you would’ve liked Legos, though. They’re like blocks.

As for this one, your guess is as good as mine.

Read­ers, please share your favorite ads fea­tur­ing his­toric fig­ures in the com­ments below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear the Voice of Alexan­der Gra­ham Bell for the First Time in a Cen­tu­ry

Hear Kurt Von­negut Vis­it the After­life & Inter­view Dead His­tor­i­cal Fig­ures: Isaac New­ton, Adolf Hitler, Eugene Debs & More (Audio, 1998)

Thomas Edison’s Silent Film of the “Fartiste” Who Delight­ed Crowds at Le Moulin Rouge (1900)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  See her onstage in New York City in Paul David Young’s Faust 3, an indict­ment of the Trump admin­is­tra­tion that adapts and man­gles Goethe’s Faust (Parts 1 and 2) and the Gospels in the King James trans­la­tion, as well as bits of Yeats, Shake­speare, Christ­mas car­ols, Stephen Fos­ter, John Donne, Hein­er Müller, Julia Ward Howe, and Abel Meeropol. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Free Libraries Shaped Like Doctor Who’s Time-Traveling TARDIS Pop Up in Detroit, Saskatoon, Macon & Other Cities

Image cour­tesy of Dan Zemke.

If you live in a major Amer­i­can city — and maybe even if you live in a major non-Amer­i­can one — you may well have come across a Lit­tle Free Library, those box­es of books open to the pub­lic for whomev­er would like to take one or leave one. Most Lit­tle Free Libraries, often put up on pri­vate prop­er­ty by the res­i­dents of that prop­er­ty, tend to look like over­sized bird­hous­es, but none of the pro­gram’s rules requires them to look that way. A Tokyo sub­way sta­tion, for instance, built one to resem­ble a sub­way car. Oth­er indus­tri­ous Lit­tle Free Library mem­bers have used the oppor­tu­ni­ty to pay trib­ute to their obses­sions, and few obses­sions run as deep (deep­er, even, than the obses­sion for trains in Japan) as the one for Doc­tor Who.

The Eng­lish genre-bend­ing spec­u­la­tive-fic­tion show has, since its debut on the BBC back in 1963, fol­lowed the tit­u­lar Doc­tor (just “the Doc­tor,” not “Doc­tor Who,” and cer­tain­ly nev­er “Dr. Who”) through many dra­mat­ic changes of set­tings, and even more notably changes of actors, as he falls into adven­tures with the var­i­ous Earth­lings he encoun­ters. Always on the move, the Doc­tor gets around by means of a machine called a TARDIS, which stands for “Time And Rel­a­tive Dimen­sion In Space.” The­o­ret­i­cal­ly able to change its shape depend­ing on the peri­od of time it lands in, the TARDIS — in a neat demon­stra­tion of the cre­ativ­i­ty that aris­es from con­straints, in this case a severe­ly lim­it­ed pro­duc­tion bud­get — gets per­ma­nent­ly stuck in the shape of a Lon­don police call box, thus repur­pos­ing one of the best-known icons of Eng­lish cities into one of the best-known icons of Eng­lish tele­vi­sion.

The best-known TARDIS-shaped Lit­tle Free Library, which appears at the top of this post, entered ser­vice in a vacant lot in Detroit, a place by now well used to mak­ing urban improve­ments by hand. The father and son behind it “began work last Labor Day, and were aid­ed by an online build­ing com­mu­ni­ty called Tardis Builders,” writes The Verge’s Andrew Lip­tak.

“The final struc­ture stands almost 10 feet tall, weighs almost a ton, and its front shelves holds around 140 books.” These videos show off oth­er book-lend­ing TARDIS­es in North Amer­i­ca, from Bloom­ing­ton, Indi­ana to Macon, Geor­gia to Saska­toon, Saskatchewan — all stand­ing evi­dence of how far Doc­tor Who’s appeal has spread beyond its native cul­ture.

As much as it may seem like noth­ing more than the proud­ly nerdy pur­suit of wor­ship­ful fans, build­ing a Lit­tle Free Library (or in most of these cas­es, a not-so-Lit­tle Free Library) in the form of a TARDIS has a cer­tain con­cep­tu­al valid­i­ty in and of itself. As every Doc­tor Who view­er knows, the TARDIS, not just a device enabling trav­el to any point in time-space, accom­plish­es anoth­er kind of spa­tial feat by hav­ing an inte­ri­or much larg­er than its the exte­ri­or. “We thought it would be cool to fill the TARDIS with items that are large on the inside, like books that hold whole lit­er­ary worlds,” says Dan Zemke, co-builder of the one in Detroit, in Parade arti­cle. Borges, as well as all the oth­er most bril­liant spec­u­la­tive minds before Doc­tor Who and after it, would no doubt approve.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Brit­Box Now Stream­ing Now Stream­ing 550 Episodes of Doc­tor Who and Many Oth­er British TV Shows

30 Hours of Doc­tor Who Audio Dra­mas Now Free to Stream Online

The BBC Cre­ates Step-by-Step Instruc­tions for Knit­ting the Icon­ic Doc­tor Who Scarf: A Doc­u­ment from the Ear­ly 1980s

Vin­cent van Gogh Vis­its a Mod­ern Muse­um & Gets to See His Artis­tic Lega­cy: A Touch­ing Scene from Doc­tor Who

The Fas­ci­nat­ing Sto­ry of How Delia Der­byshire Cre­at­ed the Orig­i­nal Doc­tor Who Theme

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

American Archive of Public Broadcasting Lets You Stream 7,000 Hours of Historic Public TV & Radio Programs

An archive worth know­ing about: The Library of Con­gress and Boston’s WGBH have joined forces to cre­ate The Amer­i­can Archive of Pub­lic Broad­cast­ing and “pre­serve for pos­ter­i­ty the most sig­nif­i­cant pub­lic tele­vi­sion and radio pro­grams of the past 60 years.” Right now, they’re over­see­ing the dig­i­ti­za­tion of approx­i­mate­ly 40,000 hours of pro­grams. And already you can start stream­ing “more than 7,000 his­toric pub­lic radio and tele­vi­sion pro­grams.”

The col­lec­tion includes local news and pub­lic affairs pro­grams, and “pro­grams deal­ing with edu­ca­tion, envi­ron­men­tal issues, music, art, lit­er­a­ture, dance, poet­ry, reli­gion, and even film­mak­ing.” You can browse the com­plete col­lec­tion here. Or search the archive here. For more on the archive, read this About page.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Library of Con­gress Makes 25 Mil­lion Records From Its Cat­a­log Free to Down­load

Library of Con­gress Releas­es Audio Archive of Inter­views with Rock ‘n’ Roll Icons

Library of Con­gress Launch­es New Online Poet­ry Archive, Fea­tur­ing 75 Years of Clas­sic Poet­ry Read­ings

Batman Goes Surfing: Remembering Adam West (RIP) with Perhaps the Campiest Batman Episode Ever

In the var­i­ous obits I read this week­end for Adam West, one word repeat­ed­ly came up–“campy.”

Reuters start­ed its obit: “Adam West, who earned a place in Amer­i­can pop cul­ture his­to­ry with his campy por­tray­al of the title char­ac­ter in the clas­sic 1960s TV series “Bat­man,” has died at age 88, his fam­i­ly said on Sat­ur­day.”

The New York Times added: “His straight-faced por­tray­al of Bat­man in the campy 1960s TV series lift­ed the tight-clad Caped Cru­sad­er into the nation­al con­scious­ness, and inspired future wear­ers of the super­hero’s cape and cowl. The TV show was among the most pop­u­lar in 1966, the year of its debut, and some of the era’s top actors signed on to play vil­lains.”

And The Hol­ly­wood Reporter capped things with off:  Yes, the Bat­man series was campy. But it was also iron­ic — in that, all winks aside, there was some­thing tru­ly right­eous and excit­ing about this pur­ple-clad goof­ball.” Indeed!

If you want Exhib­it 1 of the won­der­ful campi­ness, check out the clip above, an out­take from the Novem­ber 1967 episode, “Surf’s Up, Joker’s Under,” which turns on this plot:

The Jok­er plans to become the king of surf­ing, hop­ing the fame will give him con­trol over the hearts and minds of Gotham City. He cap­tures top surfer Skip Park­er, then uses his “Surf­ing Expe­ri­ence & Abil­i­ty Trans­fer­om­e­ter” to trans­fer the need­ed skills and sta­mi­na from Skip to him­self. When all the oth­er con­tes­tants drop out of the upcom­ing surf­ing match, Bat­man steps up to chal­lenge the Jok­er’s suprema­cy.

Just so you know. The Jok­er fin­ish­es first, but Bat­man wins on points.

The full episode (along with 119 oth­er ones) can be viewed on Bat­man: The Com­plete Series, a remas­tered box set released just a few years ago. I loved watch­ing the series in syn­di­ca­tion as a kid. Do they play as well decades lat­er? We’ll find out.

Note: If you want to see where Adam West fig­ured into the long line of Bat­man actors, see this video from our archive: The Evo­lu­tion of Bat­man in Cin­e­ma: From 1939 to Present

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1950s Bat­man Car­toon Tells Kids: “Don’t Believe Those Crack­pot Lies About Peo­ple Who Wor­ship Dif­fer­ent­ly”

1950 Super­man Poster Urged Kids to Defend All Amer­i­cans, Regard­less of Their Race, Reli­gion or Nation­al Ori­gin

Bat­man Stars in an Unusu­al Car­toon Adap­ta­tion of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Pun­ish­ment

The Evo­lu­tion of Bat­man in Cin­e­ma: From 1939 to Present

Twin Peaks Essentials to Get You Ready for the Debut of Season 3: A 55-Minute Refresher, Maps, Commercials & Behind-the-Scenes Footage & More

Have you pre­pared your­self to return, this Sun­day, to Twin Peaks, that small Wash­ing­ton town, so well known for its cof­fee and cher­ry pie, once rocked by the mur­der of home­com­ing queen Lau­ra Palmer? Fans of the epony­mous tele­vi­sion series, which first made sur­re­al prime-time tele­vi­sion his­to­ry on ABC in 1990, have binge-watched and re-binge-watched its orig­i­nal two sea­sons in advance of the new Twin Peaks’ May 21st debut on Show­time. Even fans who dis­liked the sec­ond sea­son, in which series cre­ators David Lynch and Mark Frost gave in to net­work pres­sure to resolve the sto­ry of Palmer’s mur­der, have re-watched it, and with great excite­ment.

But can sim­ply watch­ing those first thir­ty episodes (and maybe the fol­low-up fea­ture film Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me, once booed at Cannes, the very same fes­ti­val which will screen the first two parts of the new Twin Peaks on the 25th) suf­fice?

To get your­self as deep into the show’s real­i­ty as pos­si­ble, we rec­om­mend dip­ping into the Twin Peaks mate­r­i­al we’ve post­ed over the years here at Open Cul­ture, begin­ning with the four-hour video essay on the series’ mak­ing and mythol­o­gy we fea­tured just this past Jan­u­ary. You can ori­ent your­self by keep­ing an eye on Lynch’s hand-drawn map of the the town of Twin Peaks, which he used to pitch the show to ABC in the first place, and which appears just above.

But Twin Peaks has its foun­da­tion as much in music as in geog­ra­phy. Just above, you can hear com­pos­er Ange­lo Badala­men­ti, a fre­quent col­lab­o­ra­tor with Lynch, tell the sto­ry of how he and the direc­tor com­posed the show’s famous “Love Theme,” which not only made an impact on the tele­vi­su­al zeit­geist but set the tone for the every­thing to fol­low.  “It’s the mood of the whole piece,” Lynch once said of the com­po­si­tion, “It is Twin Peaks.” Badala­men­ti has scored the new series as well, join­ing the long list of returnees to the project that includes not just Lynch and Frost, but Kyle MacLach­lan as FBI Spe­cial Agent Dale Coop­er and many oth­ers from the orig­i­nal cast as well, includ­ing the late Miguel Fer­rer and War­ren Frost.

“There’s so much more to Twin Peaks than a riv­et­ing mur­der mys­tery,” says Alan Thicke, anoth­er per­former no longer with us, host­ing the 1990 behind-the-scenes pre­view of the show’s sec­ond sea­son just above. “There’s a whole look and a feel and a tex­ture,” an expe­ri­ence “180 degrees away from any­thing else on tele­vi­sion.” As dra­mat­i­cal­ly as tele­vi­su­al pos­si­bil­i­ties have expand­ed over the past 27 years, it seems safe to say that the con­tin­u­a­tion of Twin Peaks, which comes after such expan­sions of its fic­tion­al uni­verse as Frost’s Secret His­to­ry of Twin Peaks, will main­tain a sim­i­lar cre­ative dis­tance from the rest of what’s on the air. “The one thing I feel I can say with total con­fi­dence,” to para­phrase David Fos­ter Wal­lace writ­ing about Lost High­way twen­ty years ago, is that the new Twin Peaks will be… Lynchi­an.

Above, you can watch a mini-sea­son of Twin Peaks, which also dou­bles as a series of Japan­ese cof­fee com­mer­cials. They, too, come cour­tesy of David Lynch. And below, watch “Pre­vi­ous­ly, on Twin Peaks…”, an abbre­vi­at­ed, 55-minute refresh­er on what hap­pened dur­ing the first two sea­sons of the show. (It comes to us via Wel­come­toTwin­Peaks.) Also you can read a recap of every episode over at The New York Times.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch an Epic, 4‑Hour Video Essay on the Mak­ing & Mythol­o­gy of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks

Hear 20 Min­utes of Mark Frost’s New Secret His­to­ry of Twin Peaks, the Book Fans Have Wait­ed 25 Years to Read

David Lynch Draws a Map of Twin Peaks (to Help Pitch the Show to ABC)

Ange­lo Badala­men­ti Reveals How He and David Lynch Com­posed the Twin Peaks‘ “Love Theme”

David Lynch Directs a Mini-Sea­son of Twin Peaks in the Form of Japan­ese Cof­fee Com­mer­cials

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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